


Of Vases and Broken Things

by Supernova95



Series: Home Alone [8]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Child Neglect, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:10:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supernova95/pseuds/Supernova95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wayne Manor was completely different than what he remembered. It was true that Tim hadn’t been there in a while; nine months and fifteen days to be exact, and even then it was only for a few hours; his parents had thought it appropriate for him to accompany them to the annual police gala that they were actually at home for for once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Vases and Broken Things

Wayne Manor was completely different than what he remembered. It was true that Tim hadn’t been there in a while; nine months and fifteen days to be exact, and even then it was only for a few hours; his parents had thought it appropriate for him to accompany them to the annual police gala that they were actually at home for for once.

It was probably just so that people saw them together as a family; so that Mr Wayne saw them all together now that he was no longer allowed to have sleep overs with Dick and Jason.

But it just looked so much bigger now; now that there were no people dancing in the entrance hall, or drunkenly swooning all over the place. It looked bigger now there was no music or decorations, now that it was just a home: his new home.

That sounded nice, his new  _home._ He had never had a home before, not really, not in the way it’s described in Tim’s books. He thought things like that only happened in fairy tales, a home wasn’t about love and hugs and safety, it was about a place to sleep and a place for propriety, it wasn’t about parents cuddling or reading to him by the fire in the winter, it was about caretakers and empty corridors.

Except it wasn’t.

Apparently.

Because he has been here less than a week and he has been hugged so much that he feels like he’s being suffocated… in a good way, and Mr Wayne stayed up last night because Tim was being bad and not getting sleep when he was supposed to, but he didn’t shout at him, or lock him in his room, Mr Wayne picked him up and took him to Mr Wayne’s own personal Library which has a fire and a really comfy settee and he picked out a book: Grimm Fairy Tales, sat down, lifted Tim onto his lap, and read to him.

Mr Wayne read to him, it was mildly disconcerting.

Because; what has he done to deserve Mr Wayne reading to him. No one’s ever read to him before. Not a story book about goblins and princes and princesses and kingdoms being plagues by mythical creatures.

Because Tim’s old enough to read on his own; because his mother taught him when he was younger; because he can do it himself- he doesn’t  _need_  to be read to. And he doesn’t need story books about fictional people, that won’t help him learn, all it would do is fill his head with silly stories of faraway lands that don’t exist and happy endings that never occur. At least that’s what his parents told him, and his caretakers, wherever they go away.

He told Mr Wayne this, he really did, but Mr Wayne took no notice. He took no notice of Tim telling him that he wasn’t allowed to read fairy stories, and that Mr Wayne really didn’t need to take stop the  _important_  work he was doing all because Tim’s bad and can’t get to sleep. Because Tim isn’t that important, not really.

But Mr Wayne  _took no notice_. He’s never had somebody take no notice of him before when he tells them they don’t  _need_  to be doing what they’re doing. But Mr Wayne  _didn’t_ , Mr Wayne just smiled and held him tighter, and told him to hush.

And read to him.

His voice was so low, like a hum, it was nice and relaxing, and soothing, and Tim doesn’t remember much after the first page and a bit of Rumpelstiltskin because he fell asleep, on Mr Wayne.

He fell asleep on Mr Wayne.

The thought alone was enough to make him bolt awake in the morning, a cold sweat running down his back because-

_He should not have fallen asleep on Mr Wayne._  It was rude and he is a guest here, in his new home, and it was bad of him to take advantage of that. Because Mr Wayne had to take him upstairs to his room afterwards, and he shouldn’t have had to carry Tim anywhere; Tim shouldn’t have been such a burden.

And when you’re a burden, you have to apologise… right? It was the correct thing to do; if you do something wrong, so the moment Tim was dressed and as presentable as he could get he hurried back to Mr Wayne’s study.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have hurried.

Because outside the study was, what Tim thought to be, a Ming dynasty vase sitting atop a relatively ornate column acting as a stand. Tim really should have seen it before he did, he should have known it was there and been able to avoid bumping into it, he should have been looking where he was going instead of being caught up in hurrying to apologise to Mr Wayne.

Tim should have been a lot of things, but what he was, was bad and stupid and just messes everything up, the crash, shatter and thump that resonated through the hallway was proof of that.

What really confused him, however, was that about ten seconds (eleven and a half, but whose counting?) later Mr Wayne appeared at his study door and asked if Tim was alright. He was supposed to be angry at Tim for breaking the vase, and for making Mr Wayne carry him to bed the night before, he’s not supposed to ask if Tim is alright after being really bad.

“Tim? Tim we need to get your hands cleaned up, okay?” hands? Oh, they’re bleeding, and Mr Wayne’s picking him up, and Tim’s pretty sure he’s in shock, because nobody picks Tim up, or cleans him up, or not shout at him for breaking a, probably priceless- it’s worth more than Tim, vase.

He’s in so much shock that he doesn’t notice that he’s hyperventilating, which is inherently a bad thing because hyperventilation leaves him feeling extremely lightheaded and sick…

But he broke Mr Wayne’s vase.

He’s suddenly in the bathroom just how?…  _Mr Wayne was getting him cleaned up_  and Mr Wayne is saying something… and Tim  _needs_  to pay attention because he can’t make any more trouble, or be anymore rude or mess anything else up, because Mr Wayne will send him back to his house and he doesn’t want to go back because he  _likes_  it here. He just needs to focus and-

“-derstand Tim, I’m not mad at all-”

“But I broke your vase…”

“No, you broke an aesthetic replica of a vase, Dick’s lived here long enough to mean that all the collectors’ items to the vault in the basement; he had a habit of swinging from the chandeliers when he was younger, so you have nothing to be upset about, okay?”

Okay? Why would Mr Wayne be asking if he’s okay? Tim broke *his* vase, surely Mr Wayne should be the one who’s upset, angry even. But-

Tim doesn’t think that’s the answer Mr Wayne wants, and he really can’t be bad anymore so-

“Okay”

But Tim broke Mr Wayne’s vase so he’s going to have to stay in his room for the next few days; because as much as Mr Wayne will deny it-

_He’s only being nice_ -

Mr Wayne won’t want to see Tim for a while, he knows how these things work.


End file.
